Miriam Rozella

Front matter

MIRIAM ROZ ELLA MIRIAM ROZELLA By B. L. FARJEON Author ef /v " Grif," " Great Porter Square," " Blade-o'-Grass," •• In a Silver Sea," Ett LONDON: F. V. WHITE &> CO 14, BEDFORD STREET, STRAND, W.C PRINTED BY KELLY'S DIRECTORIES, LIMITED, 182, 183 & 184, HIGH HOLBORN, W.C., AND KINGSTON-ON-THAMES. CONTENTS. PAGE BOOK THE FIRST. The Battle of Life i BOOK THE SECOND. A Young Millionaire 83 BOOK THE THIRD. Love's Sacrifice 154 BOOK THE FOURTH. The Peril of a Soul 214 BOOK THE FIFTH. The Lady of Penrhyl 255 BOOK THE SIXTH. Virtus Sola Nobilitat The Dramatic rights in this Story, and the Title, are fully protected, and are the property of the Author.

Introduction

. The character of Miriam Rozella has been so freely discussed in all classes of society, and so many false and extravagant accounts of her doings have been circulated, that the true story of her life is here related, in order that it may be judged whether she is a sinner of a peculiarly cunning and depraved order, as has been stated in certain quarters, or a woman who has been shamefully wronged and defamed, and has walked through impurity with purity for her shield — emerging from the bitter trial unstained, a sinless soul strengthened and upheld by faith and prayer. Women especially have unsparingly condemned her, for who is so hard against women as woman herself? Apart from the female members of the family — all of whom were for a brief space arrayed against her, though she plucked them from death and the depths of despair — few women have been merciful enough to utter a word in her de fence.

But the final judgment has yet to be passed. Prepare for strange revelations, for a new turn in social ethics, for a new phase in human character, for a deliberate and most perilous self-sacrifice which, in the eyes of the many, covered Miriam Rozella with indelible shame, and, in the eyes of the few, with divine glory. It is a story of to-day, and deals with people among whom we move and live. And when it is finished and you lay aside these pages pronounce your verdict. Book tbe jfirst. THE BATTLE OF LIFE.

Chapter I

Mrs. Rozella and Miriam were sitting up in expectation of the return of Mr. Rozella from the country ; he had been absent five days, and was expected home at ten o'clock. The two younger children, Cecil and Clara, were abed and asleep. The appointments of the room in which the mother and daughter sat denoted that the family were in good circumstances. The house, indeed, was one in which plenty reigned, and its guiding spirit was Mrs. Rozella, a gentle, kind-hearted lady, under whose fostering care the children were educated and instructed in the right conduct of life. The ties which united the parents and children were of a peculiarly affec tionate nature, each living for the other, as it were, and all instinctively uniting to make their home, what indeed it was, a home of love. Of all the memories of childhood there are none so sweet, so enduring, so beneficial.

Harmony prevailed ; there were no dissensions, no bickerings. The wife adored her husband, the children adored their father, and he contri buted to their happiness by living at home the perfect familj life, and keeping his business cares and anxieties sedulously in the background. In the esteem of the world they stood high ; in cases of distress they were never appealed to in vain. Here again Mrs. Rozella was the guiding spirit ; to the poor in her neighbourhood she was a ministering angel, and although her purse was liberally supplied by her husband, it was nearly always empty. So strong was her sympathy with suffering that it frequently clouded her judgment, and when she was challenged on this point she would answer, " I am quite satisfied ; the poor people were in want." From the day of her marriage with the man she loved she had never known a pecuniary anxiety, and she was happy in the belief that her darling children were provided for.

Miriam was thirteen years of age, Cecil eleven, Clara nine. Miriam was the confidant of the whole family. Into her sympathising ears Cecil and Clara poured their childish troubles, and went away comforted. She was her mother's companion in missions of charity, and young as she was she gave continual evidence not only of the possession of a rare commonsense, but of a strength and decision of character which argued well for her future. She possessed the faculty of making up her mind and acting upon it without needless argument, and after the thing was done and she spoke of it to her parents they invariably approved of it; and this approval did not spring solely from their love for her — which might easily have led them astray — but from the conviction that the thing she had done was right. The seeds of a strong self reliance were implanted within her, and also — which was far better — the seeds of a firm faith in the goodness of God.

She went to church with a devout heart, and prayed with all the earnestness and sincerity of one who was seeking the truth. While thus employed she presented a beautiful picture, her eyes luminous with the ecstasy of devotion, her face eloquent with impressive, absorbing prayer. Here was a fresh young soul wending its way ingenuously and trustfully in paths of purity, ignorant as yet of the deeper human problems of life, but unconsciously arming itself to grapple with them, in what ever shape they might present themselves. At the present moment she was reading aloud "Paul and Virginia " in French, her mother occasionally correcting her accent. Mrs. Rozella was employed knitting socks for some poor people who had ample reason for blessing her name. The reading and knitting were suspended by the striking of ten o'clock.

Miriam closed her book, and Mrs. Rozella put her work aside and touched the bell. A maid answered the summons. " Is supper laid, Anne ? " " Yes, ma'am." " Tell cook to send it up a quarter of an hour after Mr. Rozella arrives. He will be hungry." " Yes, ma'am," said the maid, and retired. Then there was silence in the room, the mother and daughter sitting in expectancy, listening to the sounds in the street. Every approaching vehicle caused them to start to their feet, and its rumbling past the door brought disappointment with it. By numerous signs, apparently insignificant, but pregnant with beloved meaning, it was made clear that the absent one's presence was a joy in the house of which he was master. Of the two, Miriam was the calmer. " Do you remember, mother," she said, presentljv " the last time we were waiting for father?

The train was half an hour late." "But that was quite exceptional, Miriam. He said it had very seldom happened before." " This may be exceptional, too." " It may be, dear." " It is only a quarter past ten. Shall I go on with " Paul and Virginia ? ' " " Not aloud. I could not give my mind to it, and you might make a thousand mistakes without one being corrected. That would never do." " Do I make a thousand mistakes ? " asked Miriam, with a smile. " No, dear. You are improving wonderfully, and your accent is fairly good. A few months in France would be a great benefit to you ; that is what improved me so much. There — that is father's cab." She listened and sighed. " It has passed the door ! " " It would be delightful to go to France, mother.1' " I will tell you a secret, Miriam, only don't let Cecil and Clara know yet awhile ; it would excite them.

We are all going this year. Father has spoken of spending three or four days in Paris, and then travelling to a little village in Normandy, where we shall remain two months. That is to be our summer holiday." " Oh ! " cried Miriam, in rapture ; " I shall dream of it — Paris ! A little village in Normandy ! I will draw it for you." Her pencil was already busy. " It is by the sea, of course." " Yes, dear," answered Mrs. Rozella, smiling at Miriam's eagerness, " it is by the sea. Father lived a whole year there when he was a young man, and is well acquainted with the neighbourhood — all the pretty spots and the lovely woods. Artists go there for pictures. We shall be very, very happy." " We are very happy here, mother. It seems ungrateful to be glad at leaving our dear old home." " It will be only for a short time.

We shall come back to it better and stronger for the change." Miriam looked up apprehensively; the family doctor had paid several visits to the house lately. " Are you ill, mother ? " i* " Not ill, dear, but not quite so strong as I could wish ; the trip abroad will set me up. Let me see your drawing. How pretty it is ! We'll show it to father presently; there's his cab at last ! " " No, mother, it has stopped on the opposite side." Mrs. Rozella went to the window and drew the blind ; there was a moon, and the stars were shining. Miriam was right ; the cab had stopped on the opposite side. The clock struck the half hour. Miriam joined her at the window ; she drew the girl close to her side, and they stood silent awhile. She dared not give utterance to what was in her mind, from a superstitious dread that spoken words might be prophetic.

There had been a frightful railway accident a week ago, in which lives were lost. What if there had been an accident to the train by which her husband was travelling home ? She tortured herself by dwelling on the possibility, and sent up a mute prayer of supplication for his safety. " Where are you going, mother ? " " To the street door. I will wait there for your father." Miriam accompanied her, and they looked up and down the street, eagerly watching each vehicle as it approached, their hearts now beating with joyful anticipation, now throbbing with disappointment. The elder lady's morbid anxiety had com municated itself to the younger, and Miriam also now began to fear that an accident had occurred. A distant clock struck eleven, and they clung to each other, their limbs trembling, as though some dread portent was conveyed in the sound.

Their suffering was the more poignant because they could do nothing — nothing but wait ! " There may be an alteration in the trains, mother." " Your father would have told me. He is always very thoughtful." How slowly the time passed ! Every moment was prolonged, and charged with agonising import. At half-past eleven it seemed as if they had been standing at the door for hours. " It is very chilly, mother. You will catch cold." " Bring me my hat and cloak, dear, and put on your own. I cannot go indoors." Leaving the street door ajar they paced the pavement, a few steps this way, a few steps that. A policeman came up, and asked if anything was the matter. '■ No," said Mrs. Rozella, in a tone of vague distress ; " we are waiting — waiting. You — you have not heard of any accident ? " " No, ma'am."

" Do you hear, Miriam ? He must have heard of it if there had been one." The policeman passed on, in a dubious state of mind. Anne came to the door, and Miriam answered her enquiry whether cook was to stop up. Yes, if she did not mind ; Mr. Rozella would be sure to arrive in a minute or two. Anne went down to the kitchen, and the servants held a conversation as to the cause of the delay, speaking low, as was fitting in such circumstances. "I had a brother killed on the railway," said cook. " How awful ! " exclaimed Anne. Cook did not regard it in that light ; it was a piece of family history to be proud of. It did not happen to everybody. " I was just eleven at the time," cook continued. "I shall never forget mother going down to indemnify him." " Identify," corrected Anne, who had been better educated.

" What's the difference ? He was killed on the railway, and I had a new black dress made." Midnight — and still no sign. Now and then Miriam drew her mother's cloak closer around her. Once she went up to the children's room to see if they were asleep. Mrs. Rozella's voice was choked with tears as she asked about them. " Don't cry, mother ; O, don't cry ! Father cannot be long now." " When he went away," sobbed Mrs. Rozella, " he had a presentiment. He ran back and kissed us all again. There was something on his mind O, thank God ! Here is the cab ! " It stopped at the house, and a man who looked like a rail way official jumped off the box and opened the cab door. Mrs. Rozella sprang forward with open arms, and a world of love in her face. From the cab issued a gentleman gravely, and slowly.

It was not Mr. Rozella. " Doctor Richards ! " cried Miriam. " Yes, my dear, yes," said the doctor, and his voice shook. " O, God ! " gasped Mrs. Rozella. He took her hand, and said, " Come inside. I have something to tell you." She tore her hand away, and cried in agony, ' My husband ! Where is my husband ? " " I am here at his request. Calm yourself, dear Mrs. Rozella. Come into the house — we cannot talk in the street. Be brave, be strong, for your children's sake ! "

Chapter II

The incidents of this agonising night formed an abiding memory with Miriam and her mother. To the other children the truth was not revealed. All they were told was that their father was dead. There had been no railway accident. The train had arrived at the appointed time, and the dead body of Mr. Rozella was found in a first-class carriage. By his side was a letter addressed to Dr. Richards, with an urgent request, pencilled on the envelope, to the railway official who found it to deliver it immediately. In that letter Mr. Rozella implored the doctor to break the news gently to his wife. " To break the news gently." Mockery of words ! For on the cushioned seat was found a small bottle labelled " Poison." It was an old story, familiar to many unfortunate families who have been ruined by the rash speculation of the bread winners.

Had Mr. Rozella been content with his legitimate business those who were dear to him would have been saved from misery and shame, but in an unhappy moment he was seized with a greed for great wealth. There was a "boom" on the Stock Exchange. Half a dozen mining companies had been successfully launched, and those who ventured had made fabulous profits. Straight upon the heels of these flourishing concerns trod a hundred knavish schemes to trap the unwary. Mr. Rozella was one of the victims ; he dreamed of becoming a millionaire, and he plunged recklessly in. He gave no thought to the frightful risks he ran ; he believed there were none, and that he was sure to win. He was not one of the hawks who played upon human credulity; he was among those who fell and were crushed in the battle of greed.

His last worldly journey was made in the hope of enlisting the aid of friends who lived in the country, whereby he could recover his position. He was unsuccessful ; his rich friends received him coldly, gave him advice — and nothing more. And in a bewilderment of despair he had cut the knot which bound him to life. A rash act. Yes. But he had held so honoured a place that he had not the moral courage to face the fall, to meet beggary and commercial disgrace. Alone in the railway carriage during his last awful moments on earth, remorse, repentance came — too late ! "Wretch that I am!" he murmured, as he writhed in agony, the white foam on his lips. "What have I done — O, what have I done ? O, God, forgive me, and do not desert my beloved wife and children ! " Pictures of his happy home passed before him, of his wife, of Miriam, Cecil, Clara ; he saw a vision of himself sur rounded by smiling faces ; he heard the spiritual echo of their sweet voices.

What devil had urged him to do this deed ? He was broken in fortune, but a turn in the wheel might have enabled him to weather the storm, and his dear ones would have been true to him, would have loved and comforted him ; even in poverty they would have been happy together. Too late ! too late ! He died with those words on his lips. Needless to dwell upon the agony of the widow and his child Miriam. Cecil and Clara were sent into the country, and were spared the harrowing details of the tragedy. The estate was wound up privately, trustees being appointed to act for the general body of creditors, and by an irony of fate certain shares which bore the suicide's name took a sudden leap upwards. This stroke of good fortune assisted towards the payment of his liabilities in full ; but this was not accomplished without the disposal by public auction of his house and furniture.

Not a person to whom he was indebted lost a shilling by him ; the dear old home was broken up, but the name of Rozella was saved from commercial disgrace. It left the family almost penniless. Not entirely, for there remained to them certain possessions of value which would help them, at least for a time, to stem the tide. Mrs. Rozella's jewellery and wardrobe were not touched. She and Miriam attended the sale and purchased a few trifling memorials of the dear one who had passed away. With these in their arms, holding them close, as though there was a living spirit in them, they returned to their new lodgings and dwelt with tenderness upon the loving memories which the sight of the dumb mementoes recalled. " He gave me this upon my birth day, mother." " Do you remember when he brought these books home?"

"I am so glad you have your favourite cushions." It is a cult with numbers of people to decry any thing in the shape of sentiment, but life would be valueless, indeed, without it. Being thus fortunately enabled to retain possession of her jewels and her wardrobe (which she would have insisted upon giving up had not the creditors been paid in full), Mrs. Rozella was not distressed by any present fears of privation. In his gifts to her and the children her husband had been more than liberal — he had been lavish. Assisted by Miriam, Mrs. Rozella made an inventory of what could well be spared, and ascertained its value. With fair economy they were safe for four years at least. Her intimate acquaintance with the poor people to whom she had been so good a friend had given her a practical knowledge of the expenses of a family where every shilling has to be reckoned with.

This was her owrn fate now, and like a prudent and loving mother she pre pared herself to meet it And to meet it cheerfully. Safe for four years ! So much might be done, so much might happen, before the expiration of that time ! Miriam would then be seventeen, Cecil fifteen, and Clara thirteen ; and even during these years something could surely be earned by fine needlework, although that was not absolutely necessary. When her children were grown up they would have to work. No hardship in that ; but they must be armed for the battle while they were young. She had seen as much happiness among the poor as among the rich. She had often thought they were happier, having fewer wants. She recognised the duty that lay before her, and she did not shrink from it. Nay, she held out her arms to welcome it, for in the heart of that duty lay the flower of love.

The first important consideration was the children's health, the second their education. It had been the cherished design of the parents to educate their children at home, and to this design the widow adhered. More than ever now, for the comfort of her life, and for the preservation of that home influence in which she thoroughly believed, was it necessary that she should have her children around her. Parted from them, the dreadful blow which had fallen upon them would have crushed her. With her dear ones by her side there was still much sweetness in life. With the limited means at her command private tutors were out of the question. Well, she and Miriam would be the schoolmistresses. She herself was very well read, was an excellent linguist and musician, and Miriam was already so far advanced, and so quick at picking up knowledge, that the two could accomplish all that was required in the shape of education.

They talked these matters over together, and Mrs. Rozella was amazed at the resourcefulness of her bright and clever daughter. New forces seemed to awake within the girl. It was Miriam who corrected the calculations, for her mother was not good at figures. "Arithmetic is my department," she said with tender gaiety ; it was Miriam who, looking over the children's clothes — with which, fortunately, they were well supplied — made suggestions so sensible that it would almost appear as if hers was the guiding mind in their plans ; it was Miriam who parcelled out the days to come, the hours for this and that study, the hours for play and exercise, the books they were to read, and how the evenings were to be spent ; and finally, it was Miriam who, with an ever watchful eye upon her mother's state of health, said one day, " And now, dear mother, we will go to that little village in Normandy."

Delighted and surprised at the suggestion, Mrs. Rozella combated it at first, but Miriam pleaded so earnestly that she allowed herself to be beguiled into a discussion as to its feasi bility. Affectionate cross-purposes were at work here. Miriam was thoroughly unselfish in the matter. It distressed her to see that the dear mother was weak and ailing, and she felt that the change would be beneficial to her. Had they been poorer than they were, the young girl would have used her utmost persuasion to induce her mother to take the trip. So the loving contest was waged, and ended as Miriam wished. "Then it is decided," she said, clapping her hands. " Yes, dear, it is decided." Miriam's eyes shone with gladness, and she ran to tell the other children of the coming holiday — to them a holiday without a cloud.

They were too young to realise the new cares which the change in their circumstances had brought into the family life. Children live in the present; the future troubles them not. The original intention was to remain in Normandy a couple of months, but they remained nearly two years. There were strong inducements for this prolonged stay. The bright sun, the fresh taste of the sea air — they lodged within a mile of the sea-shore — the woods, the free life in the open, acted like a charm upon Mrs. Rozella. "Mother," said Miriam, "you are growing younger every day." And indeed, in Mrs. Rozella's face, when it was not shadowed by care, dwelt a beauty which wooed the eye that loved what was fairest and highest in Nature. It was the face of a Madonna, chastened by sorrow, lifted heavenward by sweet thought.

But before and above all, it was the mother's love, welling straight from the heart into the eyes and mouth (the features in which love finds its best expression), which gave to her face its holy beauty. Goodness is more potent in its influence than evil, and those in whom it is instinctive, are unconscious benefactors to their race. " That is a good woman " would be the natural thought of many a stranger who passed her as she was sitting in the garden with her children about her. There was no self-consciousness in her, because she never thought of herself. She lived for others, and she drew her happiness from those upon whom she bestowed it. Miriam would often gaze upon her in a kind of rapture. " If you were a picture, mother, I could worship you," she said. " Upon my word, child, you will make me vain."

Miriam shook her head tenderly, as though this were im possible. Then, again, they were living as economically as they could have lived in London, and there was more enjoyment in life ; the children were blooming with health, and getting along well with their studies. It was a happy time, but it could not last for ever. Mrs. Rozella and Miriam knew that they would soon have to go into a wider world, where there would be opportunities of the children obtaining employment. Miriam was already beginning to talk of it. " Do governesses grow rich, mother ? " she asked. " I am afraid not, dear." " Never ? " " I have never heard of. one." " But they do very well," said Miriam. " Oh, yes, when they are competent." " I hope to be competent. When I am a little older I shall be able to teach almost as well as Miss Radcliffe."

Miriam spoke rather slyly, and with a comical look at her mother. _ Miss Radcliffe was a governess they had engaged in London in their prosperous days, and, to put it mildly, Miss Radcliffe, as a governess, had been rather a failure. " I think you will, dear," said Mrs. Rozella, smiling. " Thank you, mother. Miss Radcliffe was a lady, and very nice, and we all liked her very much. But was she perfect ? The truth, mother, the truth! Was she perfect?" Mrs. Rozella checked an inclination to laugh. " There," continued Miriam gaily, "you want to laugh, and you won't. That is a confession. Miss Radcliffe was not perfect." " Who is, dear ? " "You," replied Miriam, promptly. "Nonsense, child. There is no such thing as perfection." " There is. We know it, if you do not. Ask Cecil and Clara." " My dear, we are talking of Miss Radcliffe."

"Yes — the z'wperfect Miss Radcliffe. Oh dear, oh dear, how she did mix up her kings and queens ! And her historical dates ! Mother, you would have been shocked. We agreed to say nothing at all about it, for fear of the effect it might have upon you. If we had been examined publicly by the Government Minister of History — is there such a gentleman ? — it is my belief we should have been put into the Tower for high treason." And now Mrs. Rozella could not restrain her laughter. These rare light moods delighted her, for Miriam, as a rule, was more inclined to seriousness. " But we were so sorry for her," Miriam went on, " the morning she told us she was going to leave. And she spoke so beauti fully of you, and said how kind you had been to her, that we cried with her. We all gave her things ; Cecil gave her his walking elephant, and repented it afterwards.

He has fits of generosity, you know, followed by remorse. He never asks for a thing back, but he does look so mournful ! I hope poor Miss Radcliffe got another situation." " Not as a governess. I regretted that I was unable to speak in the highest terms of her educational capabilities. But she was clever in other ways. She has a remarkable gift in the arrangement of flowers." " Yes, she had. She would take a few leaves and a few of the simplest flowers, and almost in a minute would make them into a beautiful bouquet. We used to wonder at it." " I spoke of it to the florist who supplied us with flowers, and he offered to take her into his shop at a much better salary than she was receiving from us. She accepted the engagement, and gained quite a reputation ; since that time she has been doing very well."

"And all through you. That is just like you, mother." "It would be hard if we did not do such little services for one another, my dear." " Will you give me a good character ? " asked Miriam, nestling close to her mother. " The best of characters, darling — such as you truly deserve." "I must have it in writing, so that I may show it when I am applying for a situation." "Time enough to think of that, dear," said Mrs. Rozella, with a sigh. That was what Miriam had set her mind upon. As the eldest of the children she would be the first who must strive to do something practical towards the support of the home. To this end she was very painstaking in acquiring knowledge herself while she was assisting in the education of Cecil and Clara. She was already cheerfully preparing for the serious obligations of life.